Laura is a mother of two, a teacher, writer and an artist. She also identifies with dreamer, visionary, advocate and an organizer.

At first glance, my avoirdupois is all you may see.

Sounds pretty sultry, doesn’t it?

Other words synonymous with that are corpulent, plump, fleshy.

My physicians have examined me and I’m certain,

deliberate with each other

the procedures and approaches they feel will save me from myself.

Let me share a secret with you.

I rescued myself without their assistance.

Each prominent feature of my generous figure has a story.

Many of us who schlepp around extra weight

Have chronicled our memoirs through devouring our pain

And though we still carry with us

The consciousness of those events

We are metaphorically larger and stronger

Then the memories that may haunt us.

I pursue no pity from you

When I look at my reflection, I do not see the form that may catch your eye

I see a blooming risk-taker

Who appears much younger than I presently am.

I don’t necessarily feel a fondness for my hefty appearance

But I am not disgusted by it either.

It has taken years to supplement my stature

And each pound I added allowed me to diminish

The flashbacks that altered my emotional growth.

To substantiate the thought of eating through controversy

May seem weak and indicate a lack of resolve

However, I was raised to believe food was more than mere nourishment

Partaking in the breaking of bread or the sharing of scrumptious dishes

Meant community, laughter, comfort.

My siblings, each of us struggling with our individual, inner demons

Could forget momentarily

As we formed a healing circle around the table

And found amity through the cuisine before us.

The distension of a bulging belly

Felt like a cradle that could sway complications elsewhere

If only for an evening.

That sense of fullness

Resonated infantile bliss after finishing a meal prior to a peaceful slumber.

The unwelcome attention

Bestowed upon me in my pubescent years

And my attempts to confront those encroachers

Or my choice to withdraw and discount them

Were pushed down, deep inside

With each morsel and swallow.

It didn’t take long to recognize that as a woman

I was expected to fulfill stereotypical assumptions

And I challenged each altercation

With humor, intelligence and determination.

I garnered respect and also recognized an appreciation

For my fortitude

My philosophies were basic

Treat others as you wished to be treated

Look at a person’s ability instead of their inabilities

I’ve always preferred occupations that involve advocacy

For the elderly or disabled

I’m quite adept in those situations

Yet they often bring forth confrontation

My inner psyche unfortunately becomes triggered

By a situation that screams for relief

My obvious form of contentment

And I would turn to my old comrade

That four- letter word that starts with an F

And brings such satisfaction to the lips

That’s right! Food!

Personal relationships that involved intimacy

Have come and gone

All leaving some type of imprint

That facilitated emotional and heartfelt growth.

The awareness of my own personal deficits

That contributed to the demise of a handful of those affiliations

Allowed me to become cognizant of my need to continue my pilgrimage

Toward loving myself unconditionally

Please understand

While my body is my fortress

An edifice that wards off potential suitors

My reformist mentality

Truthfully longs to discard this sarcophagus

That shields and protects me

One day

When I no longer feel afflicted

By prompts that activate my need to feel “full”

My outer presentation

Will mirror my internal graces

And I will materialize

Into the indomitable creation I was meant to be.

© 2019 Laura Cole